


palpitations

by marcceh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-02 03:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20269582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcceh/pseuds/marcceh
Summary: Jim finds out the Holmes brothers have been working together.





	1. Chapter 1

Mycroft’s self-satisfied expression falls right off his face as he turns on the light. Ah. He’d heard the news, of course - that Moriarty’s disappeared right after his trial. It did not seem prudent to choose Mycroft’s home sa his hiding spot, however. The smaller man seems uncharacteristically perturbed. 

“You let me have those stories,” Moriarty chides. 

Mycroft frowns, swallowing a quip about “no refunds” and hangs up his coat.

“And you let me have those codes,” he reminds Moriarty. Goodness, the little madman hasn’t lost it all, has he?

Moriarty scowls, looking away. Mycroft can’t imagine what he’s looking  _ for. _ He certainly won’t find it in the sitting room. He can see he’s working at something but hasn’t quite got it. But whatever he expects, it’s not,

“You’re a real softie after all, aren’t you?”

He can only arch an eyebrow in response. It’s far from a  _ gotcha _ moment.

“All the smoke and mirrors, all this  _ theater,  _ all to keep baby brother playing exactly where you can see he’s safe.”

“Hm, and your own interest is purely business, all intellectual, is it?”

“A meeting of the minds.” He waves it off.

“Which makes your heart pitter-patter?” 

Moriarty’s frown deepens. He looks truly unhappy. Mycroft doesn’t know what he had hoped Mycroft could offer.

Mycroft sighs, walking over to pour two drinks. He contemplates poisoning the little fool, just to get it all over with. 

“Did you ever think, perhaps, that I might be using him?” He eyes Moriarty. “Blood doesn’t automatically garner warm feelings, as I’m sure you know.”

“That’s just what you want me to think.”

Moriarty’s response sounds rote, not rising to the bait. 

“You’re working together,” he accuses with some heat this time.

Was  _ that _ Moriarty’s grand revelation? Mycroft stands a bit straighter; he takes a drink. He’s poured a second but hasn’t offered it yet.

“And this worries you?” Mycroft asks, suddenly finding himself playing psychologist to a psychopath. Moriarty glares at him, almost petulant. Is he angry that he’s discovered Mycroft  _ cares? _

“If you start complaining this is unfair, I will have you thrown out of my home immediately,” Mycroft warns, as if it isn’t something he should have done long ago. “Life is unfair, you’re no stranger to this.”

“You’ve been interfering from the beginning.” Another complaint. Another strike.

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” Mycroft says. He eyes the second tumbler.

“Why wouldn’t you just engage with me directly?” Moriarty says. Oh, he’s frustrated. 

Mycroft examines his own glass, grappling with the mystery of how quickly his drink has disappeared. 

“I’m not so bereft of mental stimulus I’ve got to turn to any little brain teaser that pops up on the radar,” Mycroft says. No he’s got  _ people _ for that.

“I  _ care _ remember?” he says, fully intending it to sound sarcastic. Would it be rude to take the second drink himself? What exactly would that telegraph? “I want something that will make my heart race.”

He gives Mycroft the strangest look, as he stands, straightens his jacket, and heads out the door. 

Does Moriarty really think himself Mycroft’s mental match? He is not impressed. 


	2. Chapter 2

Only a few months ago, Jim had paid Mycroft a visit, oozing enough sugary pity to make Mycroft's mouth pucker. Ms. Adler had played his brother a fool and now Moriarty wanted to bargain. He thought it made them equals, perhaps, now that he'd forced Mycroft into a deal with the devil.

"Stay out of my way," Moriarty had warned, before kindly - kindly! - telling Mycroft the information he was after wouldn't leave the room. Baby brother would think him a genius for outsmarting the terrorists once again, and no one would be the wiser. A textbook mafia move if there ever was one.

Mycroft didn't have much of a choice - he could not agree to such terms, knowing Moriarty couldn't be trusted. On the other hand, neither could he tell Moriarty 'bombs away!' He let the little madman think he had his way.

Oh. Mycroft muses in the car, running a finger over his lip. Was Jim Moriarty heartbroken over broken promises? How ridiculous. What were they, partners in crime? Both privy to front row seats of Sherlock's downfall? He'd wanted to put on a show for Mycroft, and he's upset Mycroft's interfered. Stepped into the director's role and started working with the actors.

Ah.

Well Mycroft could understand being territorial.

He just can't quite figure out Jim's next move.

.

"It would be prudent to be careful," Mycroft says. He would prefer not to do this over the phone, but Sherlock is out in the country, God knows why. The line is "secure," but Mycroft of all people knows what "secure" means. And Sherlock's mobile ks anything but secure, in any sense of the word.

"I leave Baker Street an hour and you're already missing playing nursemaid?"

You said it, not me, Mycroft thinks but doesn't say.

"Our mutual friend has been alerted to our working together."

"Have you been watching mafia films, Mycroft."

Mycroft makes a face.

"He knows," Mycroft says, serious. It must convey, over the line, because Sherlock is quiet for a moment.

"We'll need to change the plan? Do we know what he's planning?"

Mycroft sighs. He'd hoped a talk with his brother would provide inspiration, if not insight.

"You don't know," Sherlock answers for him. Mycoft puckers his mouth. The "either" is left unsaid, and he, as the older sibling, is intent on riding above the occasion and not pointing it out.

"We're working on it," he says instead. He's about to end the call when he remembers it's his turn to entertain the parents, and in a stroke of inspiration decides to try to foist the matter onto Sherlock. Sherlock hangs up on him before he has the chance.


End file.
